


Beneath a Moonless Sky

by Superfast_Jellybitch



Category: Cats - Andrew Lloyd Webber
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Childhood Friends, Falling In Love, Family Dynamics, Friends to Lovers, Mr. Mistoffelees is Quaxo (Cats), Multi, Past Abuse, Sibling Bonding, Theft, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Various Traumas, just a lil character exploration, self indulgent fic is self indulgent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:35:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22266469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Superfast_Jellybitch/pseuds/Superfast_Jellybitch
Summary: There's more to the life of a Jellicle cat than just the Jellicle Ball.(a collection of Cat tales)
Relationships: (past)Demeter/Macavity, Bombalurina & Rum Tum Tugger (Cats), Bombalurina/Demeter (Cats), Bombalurina/Rum Tum Tugger, Demeter/Munkustrap (Cats), Mr. Mistoffelees & Victoria, Mr. Mistoffelees/Rum Tum Tugger, Mungojerrie & Rumpleteazer (Cats), Mungojerrie/Munkustrap (Cats), Munkustrap & Rum Tum Tugger, Plato/Victoria (Cats)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 94





	1. Don't You Think It's Rather Funny?

**Author's Note:**

> Did I use another Andrew Lloyd Webber lyric from an even cringier musical as a title? Maybe so. 
> 
> Am I gonna keep up the Trend in every Chapter title to follow? Yes absolutely.

“Oh, c’mon. There’s got to be  _ somebody _ that’s caught yer eye.” Rumpleteazer said with a grin.

“Maybe so. What’s it to you?” Mungojerrie asked, making a show of inspecting his claws.

How they’d ended up on this subject, he hadn’t a clue, but they always seemed to circle back to attractions when they got to talking late at night. Rumpleteazer looked at him with a sour expression, and he smirked. 

“Aww, don’t be like that. Here, I’ll start, you nervous Nellie; I think Electra’s the cat’s meow. She seems like the kinda gal who’d be down for a good wrestle, that ends in a  _ very _ good-”

“I don’t need the gritty details, Teazer!” He pushed her playfully, feigning disgust. 

“Suit yourself. Now tell me, brother dear- Who’s got your fur in a frizz? I know there’s gotta be  _ someone.  _ You’ve been twitchy. An’ the last time you was twitchy was when that family next door adopted that cute little persian.” She said in that prim tone of voice she used exclusively when she wanted something. 

Which, was exactly why  _ he _ did the charming and  _ she _ did the swiping. Rumpleteazer couldn’t charm a flea into her fur. Granted, he didn’t figure she’d have any trouble wooing Electra, if she decided to actually pursue that avenue of interest. He’d seen the way the young queen looked at his twin. Mungojerrie rolled his eyes, but he was wearing down gradually. 

“I don’t hafta tell you  _ nothin’ _ .” He said, nose to the air. He watched his sister’s tail twitch with irritation from the corner of his eye. 

“Yes you do.” She insisted, growing impatient. “We’s twins. You gotta tell me  _ everything _ . Them’s the rules.” 

“Ya really think Coricopat and Tantomile tell each other everythin’?” 

“‘Course not. They’ve got that freaky mind-read-y thing they do. Don’t change the subject.”

Mungojerrie sighed, deflating completely. This wasn’t fun anymore. He was backing himself into a corner and he had always been claustrophobic. 

“....You’re gonna laugh at me.”

“I would  _ never! _ ” Rumpleteazer gasped, before thinking on it just a second longer. “At least, not without a good reason.”

“.....Munkustrap.” Mungojerrie sighed at last.

“ _ Munkustrap?! _ ” Rumpleteazer echoed incredulously. “But he’s so….so…” 

Not finding the word she was looking for, his sister resorted to pantomime- a fairly frequent occurrence that he’d often had to translate for less clever cats than he. She stilled her face in a stern, almost comically disapproving expression and held her arms out straight across- a damn good impersonation if he said so himself- and Mungojerrie couldn’t help but snort. 

“Yeah, I like a man with authority.” Mungojerrie stated proudly

“You  _ hate _ authority.” 

“That’s  _ why _ I like a man with authority. I like loosenin’ em up.” 

“Uh-huh, an’ how much experience ya got with that? You goin around datin cats of higher standin’ I don’ know about? Is my brother a sugar baby?”

They both descended into a fit of snort-filled giggles at this notion, practically falling off the roof they were perched upon. Not that he hadn’t  _ considered _ something like that- what with his looks and his charm- but where was the thrill in getting things handed to you? They managed to calm themselves down, and a serious silence fell between them. 

“I think you should tell ‘im.” Rumpleteazer said finally

“Wh- You can’t be serious, Teazer.” He balked, looking at his sister like she’d grown a second head.

“I am!” She insisted. “You oughta tell that ol’ stick in the mud exactly how you feel, otherwise how’re you s’possed ta find out if he feels the same?”

“He don’t.” 

“An how do you know that, huh? You talk to him?” 

“No. I don’t need to. He’s  _ Munkustrap _ , Teazer. ‘Sides, he’s got Demeter, don’t he?”

“Yeah and Demeter’s got Bomba. What’s yer point?”

“I dunno.” Mungojerrie shrugged. “They’re just...content, ain’t they? I dunno where I’d fit in, I guess. An’ he ain’t never showed any interest in me anyway.” 

“Eh, so he’s shy.” Rumpleteazer waved off his concern. “No need to be all self-doubt-y, Jerrie. You got toms and queens alike swoonin’ over you. Everybody loves a bad boy. Once you turn on that ol’ romantic side of ya, I’m sure you’ll have him eatin’ outta your hands.”

“Maybe.” Mungojerrie bit his lip, trying to keep the smile from his face. 

She had a point. She always had a point. Perhaps he really ought to say something. He’d been dancing around Munk’s heels since he was a kitten, and this conversation was more than a bit overdue now. 

“But you gotta say somethin’ to Electra, too.” He insisted. “‘S’only fair.”

“Deal.” 

\----------------------------------------------------

Mungojerrie could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he sauntered across the junkyard, though he was very careful to make sure his nervousness didn’t show- tail straight up in the air and humming a happy little tune. He jumped elegantly onto a tire, sprawling himself across the rubber languidly and looking down at the grey cat with wide, rounded pupils, watching him for a moment. He was playing with the kittens- allowing them to use him as a jungle gym while occasionally jumping at them playfully, twitching his tail back and forth for Jemima to bat at while Etcetera climbed up his shoulders and Tumblebrutus wrestled with Pouncival. Mungojerrie smiled. Munkustrap always seemed his most relaxed around the kittens, and it warmed his heart to see him let his guard down and have fun. 

But he’d been distracted. Let his own guard down. Didn’t do a proper headcount. Mungojerrie let out a cry of surprise as he was pounced upon, the weight of the kitten throwing him from the tire and sending him tumbling to the ground below. Ah yes. Carbucketty. How could he have forgotten. The kitten looked proudly down at him, eyes sparkling with excitement. 

“Gotcha!” He exclaimed 

“Ya sure did, kiddo. Popped right outta nowhere! Ol’ Mistoffelees betta watch out, wot with you gunnin’ for his job!” Mungojerrie grinned, nudging the kitten off of him. 

“Munk! Did ya see that!! I snuck up on  _ Mungojerrie _ !” Carbucketty bounded off in the direction of the older tom, circling his ankles. 

“Yes, I did. An excellent pounce, Carbucketty.” Munkustrap chuckled, the sound music to Mungojerrie’s ears. 

He looked down into his face, a grin spread wide across it, and Mungojerrie felt suddenly winded. His heart skipped a beat in his chest, and he didn’t know if he’d been staring for seconds, or minutes, or hours…..hell it could’ve been days for all he knew. It was ridiculous how easily Munkustrap could make a fool of him with just a look. Well, more of a fool anyway. 

“You need a paw, Jerrie?” He asked, voice smooth as butter. 

“Yeah! After a vicious attack like that, I’m lucky to be alive!!!” Mungojerrie moaned dramatically, taking the offered paw. 

The kittens giggled around him. Mungojerrie always loved having an appreciative audience, and as much as he wished to look ‘cool’, he couldn’t resist an opportunity to ham it up. As Munkustrap went to help him up, he let himself get halfway to his feet before he went deadweight. He’d expected Munk to stumble a bit, but ultimately catch him and glare down at him for his antics. What instead happened was he hit the ground again. Hard. With all 9 pounds of Munkustrap coming down atop him, knocking the wind out of him physically this time. He did get the glare, though. The chorus of giggles turns to uproarious laughter at the perfectly timed if ill-executed slapstick. 

“‘Ello luv.” He said hoarsely “Did ya have a nice trip?”

Another burst of laughter. Mungojerrie smiled and winked, and Munkustrap just rolled his eyes, pushing himself off the calico, but he swore he saw the slightest upward twitch of his lip. Oh that was very worth the pain involved. He stood, and turned to the kittens. 

“Oh that’s funny, is it?” Munkustrap said sternly. All the kittens save for Jemima, who continued to laugh behind her paws, immediately stood at attention. 

“Yes.” Jemima said, equally stern. 

He couldn’t help it. Mungojerrie burst into peals of snort-filled laughter, nearly falling over himself for a third time. It was catching, everyone else stifling giggles and snorts of their own. 

“Sorry, Munk.” Mungojerrie said, not meaning it in the slightest. “She’s got you down cold.”

Munkustrap glared between his daughter and the mischievous calico, before bursting into laughter himself. It was a full, wonderful sound that made him feel warm all over, and Mungojerrie thought to himself that he didn’t get to hear it enough anymore. This was when Demeter came into view, flanked by Jellylorum and Bombalurina. 

“Uh-oh.” Mungojerrie said with exaggerated disappointment. “Mums are here, fun’s over kids.” 

“What are you teaching my boys, Mungojerrie?” Jellylorum asked with a playful smirk as her brood tumbled over one another to reach her. 

“Me?!” He gasped “I’d  _ never _ !!”

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Demeter and Munkustrap butt heads, rubbing against one another in an affectionate greeting. Admittedly, he wasn’t sure how to feel about it. It wasn’t as though he was  _ jealous _ , per say. He loved Demeter and Jemima, it was just...odd to see that his childhood playmate had grown to the ‘mate and kittens’ stage of life while Mungojerrie was still the kind to chase a string around the house. 

“Oh,  _ sure  _ you wouldn’t.” Jellylorum retorted, bringing him out of his thoughts. “I bet you’re making right little bandits of all of them.” 

“Bandits? Those three? Naw. They ain’t nearly slick enough yet. Although I’d be willin to tutor them if you’d like.” He winked

“Oh, I think we’re all set on that count. These three are positively  _ exhausting  _ as is.” She sighed. “Speaking of, I really ought to get them to a bath. Thank you for keeping them entertained.” 

“Aw it’s no trouble Jelly. ‘Sides, Munkustrap did the  _ real _ work. I just crashed the party.” 

“Either way, I appreciate it. The boys absolutely adore you.” She said sincerely, and Mungojerrie couldn’t help but feel a little proud. “Alright; Tumblebrutus, Carbucketty, Pouncival, say goodnight to your friends.”

A chorus of ‘goodnight’ piped up from the littermates, and he waved them off with a wide grin. Those kids were going places. He glanced over towards Munkustrap, remembering now why he’d come down to the junkyard tonight in the first place. Nerves making him twitchy once more, he walked over to where Munkustrap, Demeter, and Bombalurina had struck up a conversation while Jemima and Etcetera had begun to wrestle. 

“'Scuse me, Munkustrap- Ya got a minute?” Mungojerrie asked in an uncharacteristically meek voice.

Munkustrap looked from him, to Demeter, to Bombalurina, almost as though looking for permission. Mungojerrie found it silly, and apparently Demeter agreed on that, because she smiled and rolled her eyes at him.

“You boys go chat. I’m sure Jemima and Etcetera won’t mind continuing their playdate back at home.” She said, lifting Jemima by the scruff of her neck. 

“Don’t get into too much trouble, boys.” Bombalurina added with a wink, before doing the same with Etcetera 

And then, they were alone. And Munkustrap was looking at him. And he was shaking. Cor blimey this was a  _ bad _ idea. What had he been thinking? He nearly turned tail and ran, but found himself glued to the spot with fear. 

“Jerrie? Are you okay?” 

“Munk, I need ta tell you something.” 

“Well yes.” Munkustrap smiled. “I inferred.” 

He went quiet again, unsure of what to say. How do you tell someone you’ve loved them your whole life? Someone who’d never given you a second glance? Someone who already had a mate, and a kitten of his very own. Munkustrap didn’t need him, now did he?

“If it’s  _ that _ bad, don’t tell me.” Munkustrap said with a hint of humor in his tone, trying to lighten the unusually somber mood. 

“Munk…..’ave you ever considered takin’ another mate?”

Munkustrap looked down at him, eyes wide with surprise. It didn’t take a genius to figure out he’d caught on, but mercifully, he feigned obliviousness.

“I….I’ve given it thought, yes.” He said carefully. “Demeter has myself and Bombalurina, after all, and it’s not unusual by any stretch of the imagination. Why do you ask?”

“I think you know why I’m askin’.” 

The grey tabby cat stiffened, intentionally avoiding Mungojerrie’s gaze. There it was. The embarrassment. The rejection. The awkwardness. Nothing would be the same after this, and that left him feeling like a gutted fish. 

“You know what? Forget I said anything.” He bit out, turning around and trying his hardest to keep from sprinting away at full speed. 

“Mungojerrie, wait.” 

He did, turning his head to look back at Munkustrap. The older tom opened and closed his mouth, looking as though he desperately wanted to say the right thing. A guilty expression flashed across his face as he failed, and Mungojerrie promptly decided he didn’t want to stick around to hear whatever he had to say. 

“Be seein ya, pal.” He said quickly, before darting out of the junkyard. 

\--------------------------------------------

Mungojerrie wandered around the city aimlessly for a while, not wanting to go home, or be anywhere he was recognized. He knew that this wouldn’t end well, but that didn’t make it any easier on him, especially after he’d gotten back to his den and seen Electra fast asleep atop of Rumpleteazer. It wasn’t as though he wasn’t happy for his sister, it just hurt to see someone else succeed where he had failed. They’d talk about it later. 

He was sitting on a post on the docks, staring out over the water and berating himself for having feelings to step on, it occurred to him that he did not want to be alone. An idea popped into his head, and before he knew it, his feet had taken him back to the house in Victoria Grove. It was late, but that had never stopped him before. He hopped onto the windowsill and yowled. Within a minute, the window opened and he was being dragged in through it by pudgy hands. 

“Jerrie!” his child cooed, flinging him about like a ragdoll as he purred and butted his chin. 

He was the only human to date who could tell Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer apart, and their mutual favorite. The three had grown up together, after all. Stealing food from the kitchen in the middle of the night, running around the house, tearing up the wallpaper. They’d had some good times, for sure. He lets the child treat him as a teddy bear, arms wrapping around his middle and holding him close to his little body. Soon, he was asleep, lulled by the familiar sound of his cat’s purrs. Mungojerrie rested his eyes himself, taking comfort in the affections of one of the two beings he was positive loved him unconditionally. 

\---------------------------------------------------------

“What’s wrong?” Demeter asked cooly, pausing in the grooming of her mate. 

Munkustrap was usually tense, but he’d been positively restless since he’d come back to their den. She just  _ knew _ it had something to do with that conversation, but she also knew her mate and knew that dragging it out of him would be a chore. Munkustrap may open up to her and Tugger more than anyone, but that didn’t mean much by comparison. He liked to put on a strong face and pretend that everything was fine- felt like he was failing everyone if he didn’t- and it broke her heart every time she caught him doing it. 

“It’s nothing.” Munkustrap insisted, stretching out a bit so that he pressed more fully against her, clearly trying to distract her. It didn’t work. She’d loved him for too long to fall for that.

“What did Mungojerrie want to talk about?” Demeter tried again, tone still casual. 

“Demeter….” Munkustrap said in that tone of voice that insisted she drop the subject.

“Munkus.” She said in the tone of voice that meant she would not. 

He made a tiny chirp of frustration before rolling over to face her properly, and the distress was visible on his face. Demeter tried to keep her own expression stilled in moderate concern, because she knew that if Munk thought she was hurting for him, he’d close right back up. She’d been working on him with that one, but they still had a long way to go. 

“He asked to be my mate.” 

“Oh.” Demeter said, surprised. 

That was...not the problem she’d expected, although now that she was thinking about it, it did make a bit of sense. They’d been friends since the twins were taken into the fold as kittens, and Munk had always had a bit of a soft spot for the calicos. Demeter had been...concerned, after she had taken Bombalurina as her mate and Munkustrap had stayed steadfastly monogamous. She was worried that perhaps he would feel neglected, or even jealous, but that had faded once she’d seen just how content he was with just her and Jemima. Now that the opportunity had presented itself to him, however, she found herself getting excited at the prospect of setting him up. 

“How wonderful. I think you should go for it.” Demeter said with a soft smile, trying not to seem too eager just yet.

“Yes, well, even if that was possible, I think I’ve mucked it up already.” Munkustrap moped, resting his head in her paws. 

“Why, what did you say to him, you silly tom?” She asked with a chuckle.

“Nothing.” Munkustrap groaned. “I didn’t say  _ anything _ .” 

Demeter blinked at her mate in surprise, before giving him a sympathetic wince. Oh  _ Munkustrap _ , you beautiful idiot. 

“Well, you’d better tell him  _ something _ , even if it’s ‘no’. Though, I can’t fathom why it would be.” Demeter declared, stroking his fur affectionately once more. “You clearly care for him if this has got you that out of sorts.”

“It’s not that I don’t care for him, Demeter. It’s just… it would be inappropriate. I’m positioned to inherit leadership of the clan, and I need to set an example. Mungojerrie is the same age as Tugger, and is known as a reckless hooligan.”

“Munkustrap, firstly, taking a second mate and securing your lineage is far from an ‘irresponsible leader’ thing to do. I’m your only mate, and we only have the one kitten between us- Don’t give me that face, I  _ know _ you don’t care, but if you’re going to pull the ‘poor pitiful prince’ routine, I will pull out the appropriate rebuttals- and you and Mungojerrie are not that far apart in age. Bombalurina fools around with the Rum Tum Tugger on occasion and no one bats an eye. Furthermore, who doesn’t love a tale of a heroic tom leading a criminal into the light, huh? You’re just making excuses because you’re scared of letting yourself actively pursue happiness, and I won’t stand idly by and allow you to throw this opportunity away. I love you too much for that, Munkus.” 

Munkustrap looked at her with an absolutely dumbfounded expression. Goodness he was cute when he was surprised. She was right, though, and Demeter knew that he knew it.

"Maybe you're right." Munkustrap said finally. "But even so, doesn't he deserve...better?" 

"Even if he did, that's not your decision to make." Demeter reminded. 

She wouldn't coo over him and tell him he was the best. She knew that those kind of statements rarely came from a place of self doubt within her mate. Munkustrap knew his own strengths and his weaknesses, and was not prone to exaggerating either. It was one of the many things Demeter loved about him. What he  _ was _ prone to, however, was making horrible decisions in the name of protecting others, usually at the expense of himself. She rubbed her cheek against his, comforting him. 

"Just talk to him, Munkus. You'll sort it all out. I know you will." Demeter punctuated this statement with a kiss to Munkustrap's forehead, smiling as the tabby finally relaxed against her, purring loudly. 

\-------------------------------------

Mungojerrie tried his best to sneak back into his den, to no avail. Nothing got past his sister, especially since she'd been trained since kittenhood to listen for his footsteps. He turns to find her with her hands on her hips looking at him anxiously. 

"Blimey, Jerrie, what's happened?!" Rumpleteazer asked with a glare. "When ya didn't come home, I was worried, but Electra said you was probably back at Munkustrap's den, but then ya weren't there and ol sourpuss was even more out of sorts than usual and I-"

"I'm fine, Teazer." Mungojerrie waved her off with a false grin. "I was just at the house in Victoria Grove, s’all." 

"I don't believe you." She said flatly. "If you was fine, you'd've come home last night, or at least told me where you was going. Now what happened, eh? You  _ and  _ Munkustrap have been actin all kinds a freaky."

Mungojerrie looked to the ground, unwilling to meet her gaze and admit his cowardice. 

"Nothin' happened, Teazer." He lied.

"You mean you didn't tell him?" 

"No, I told him."

Rumpleteazer's gaze softened sympathetically, and then she pulled him into a bone crushing embrace. 

"Oh I'm so sorry, Jerrie!" She exclaimed, stroking his fur. "I'll kick his bloomin' arse, I swear!!"

"Calm down, Rumpleteazer! He didn't say anything to me, I just….left." He admitted, trying to pry himself from her iron grip. 

She held him back just far enough that she could glare at him. He gave her a sheepish grin. 

"Wot do you mean you 'left'?" Rumpleteazer asked, wrinkling her nose in distaste

"I...y'know. Left. He wasn't saying anything so I just went home." 

"You just WENT HOME?" She repeated incredulously, shoving him away. 

"I PANICKED!"

"Well you better UN-panic!! Ya didn't even give the poor guy a chance to respond!" She admonished. 

"I DUNNO WHAT TO DO ABOUT IT, TEAZER!" He moaned 

"MUNGOJERRIE!" Rumpleteazer snapped, sounding rather like an impatient mother. "Get your 'ead together! Look, ya both mucked up that confession, but that don't mean all is lost. You should've seen the look on his face when I told him I hadn't seen you all night. Poor thing was scared half to death. You jus need to try somethin' else. Make it up, ya know?"

"How am I s'possed ta do that?"

"Don't ask me,  _ you're  _ the one in love with him. Do something grand and romantic, that's what I did." 

"Oh yeah!! How  _ did _ it go with Electra?" He said suddenly- an attempt to divert the subject.

  
  


"It went perfectly." Rumpleteazer sighed dreamily. "She's positively radiant. A real gem of a cat. I told her everything I thought of her and then I guess she thought I was taking too long cuz- Wait a minute.”

His sister glared at him again, and Mungojerrie wilted under her gaze. Damn. Caught again. He really couldn’t play games with Rumpleteazer, and he knew that, but that wouldn’t stop him from trying to weasel out of an uncomfortable situation. It was simply his nature. 

“You’re just askin’ me cuz you think it’ll make me drop the subject, ain’t ya?” Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. 

“Little bit o’ that, little bit o’ good old fashioned curiosity.” Mungojerrie shrugged 

“Well-” Rumpleteazer crossed her arms over her chest, sticking her nose in the air. “I may tell ya, once you patch things up.”

“Fiiiiine.” He whined. “You drive a damn hard bargain.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

Mungojerrie struggled a bit under the weight of the parcel he was carrying. It wasn’t easy for one cat to swipe an entire cod, but he managed. Besides, Munk was worth it. ‘Be romantic’, Rumpleteazer had said, and truthfully, he wondered why he hadn’t thought of that in the first place. He was probably too busy thinking of all the ways this could go wrong. Damn nerves. At long last, he reached his destination- the battered bookshelf at the edge of the junkyard where Munkustrap liked to stretch out beneath the midday sun. Sure enough, there he was, sprawled out on his back with all four paws to the air, eyes closed in contentment. It was such a peaceful, beautiful sight that he’d almost hate to disturb it. Almost. 

“Ya sure do look awful sweet like that.” He said softly.

Munkustrap’s ear twitched in the direction of his voice, and a small smile played at the corner of his lip as he cracked one eye open. Mungojerrie watched with rapt adoration as the older tom stretched wide before rolling over, looking at him right-side-up this time.

“You gave your poor sister an awful fright, you know.” He said nonchalantly. 

“The way she tells it,  _ you  _ were the one worried for me.” Mungojerrie said with a smirk. 

Munkustrap stiffened guiltily, but his expression remained the same, and Mungojerrie’s smile widened. So it was true, then. He’d been worried. Something about that made him feel a little tingly all over. 

“Perhaps.” He grinned. “It’s not an uncommon reaction when someone you care about pulls a vanishing act.”

“I’m sorry I scared ya, luv.” Mungojerrie cooed, cleverly concealing his giddiness behind suave charm. He pulled the parcel forward and pushed it towards the tabby. “I gotcha a lil somethin’ ta make up the difference.”

Munkustrap’s eyes widened in curiosity and he got to his feet, stepping forward to sniff at the package. Mungojerrie smiled in anticipation as he watched Munkustrap paw open the brown paper. His pupils dilated in excitement as he unwrapped the prize, and it was possibly the most wonderful thing Mungojerrie had ever seen. 

“Like it?” 

“How did you….where did you get this?” Munkustrap asked, his tone somewhere between incredulous and suspicious.

“The market.” Mungojerrie said matter-of-factly. “Where do ya think fish come from, silly?”

“I…Jerrie I don’t know how to even  _ begin _ to address that statement.” 

“Then don’t.” He shrugged. “Just enjoy it.” 

Munkustrap looked for a moment as though he might protest again, but instead ducked down to enjoy the treat. Mungojerrie’s heart soared at the acceptance of his romantic gesture. This was good! This was going well! 

“You know…” Munkustrap said abruptly, pushing the fish towards him ever so slightly. “I can hardly eat this all myself.”

Taking the hint, Mungojerrie joined in the meal, enjoying his ill-gotten gains with the other tom. They were dining together. Eating from the same fish. Was this a date? It felt like a date. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything last night.” Munkustrap sighed. “I shouldn’t have left you hanging like that.”

“‘S’fine.” Mungojerrie said around a mouthful of cod. “I shoulda given you a chance to say something.” 

“May I say something now?”

“By all means.”

Munkustrap took a deep breath, sitting back on his haunches. He looked...nervous. Mungojerrie wasn’t sure whether to be excited or terrified. 

“The first thing I need to say is that yes, I feel the same. I would love to be your mate. But….are you sure that’s something  _ you _ want?” 

“What do you mean, Munk?”

“I mean...I’m not always an easy person to love, Jerrie.”

“Oh, and you think  _ I  _ am?” Mungojerrie laughed. “Munk, I know. I’ve known you my whole life. I ain’t stupid. I know you’re an over-anxious, over-protective ball of nerves who holds himself responsible for everythin’, jus’ like  _ you _ know I’m an immature kleptomaniac who’s scared of change an’ tight spaces.”

Munkustrap looked at him in surprise for a second, before bursting into peals of laughter. Mungojerrie can’t help but join in, snickering and snorting behind his paws. 

“Have I ever told you I love the way you snort when you laugh?” Munkustrap asked, still chuckling 

Mungojerrie stopped abruptly, looking at Munkustrap with wide eyes. He hadn’t expected that. If cats could blush, he knew he’d look like a ripened tomato. 

“Nah...I don’t believe you have.” 

“Well, I really ought to more often.” 

“Hey, that’s not how this is supposed to work!” Mungojerrie joked, “ _ I’m _ supposed to be charming  _ you _ !”

“You’re always charming me, Mungojerrie.” He said smoothly, before rubbing his cheek against him. 

Mungojerrie pressed back against him enthusiastically, butting their foreheads together. This was real...this was  _ happening _ ! He tackled Munkustrap to the ground, nuzzling against his soft grey fur. The tabby just purred beneath him, grooming through his fur. He really needed to thank his sister.


	2. You Know I Do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took so long to get out, I kinda got carried away.

Quaxo stretched out upon the sun-heated car hood, lengthening his tiny form to its fullest. He and his sister had always been petite, but that suited both of them just fine, even if they were mistaken for kittens by less observant cats and small children. He yawned lazily, before cracking an eye open to watch Rum Tum Tugger flirt with Bombalurina. 

_ “You know, for someone who claims to be unamused by the Rum Tum Tugger’s antics, you sure do spend a lot of time watching him.” _

Victoria’s voice rang through his mind like a tiny bell. He was one of very few cats who could actually  _ hear _ his mute sister, and very frequently he wished he couldn’t. Not that he didn’t feel very fortunate to be blessed with the magical prowess to read her mind, he just wished Victoria used it for anything other than teasing him. 

“How do you know I’m not watching Bombalurina, hmn?” Quaxo purred, rolling over to look at her.

_ “Please, Quaxo. You’ve always preferred Toms.” _

“Touche.” He granted her that much. “What are you doing here, anyway? I thought you and Plato were living in wedded bliss?” 

_ “We are. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have time to bully my favorite brother into admitting his crush.”  _ She smiled, her nose wrinkling. 

“Firstly, I’m your  _ only _ brother, and secondly-” Quaxo gave her his smoothest grin. “You’re a bit late on that one, ‘Toria.” 

Her eyes widened, first in shock, and then excitement. Quaxo just straightened his posture and beamed proudly. 

_ “I can’t believe my wonderful, talented, magically gifted brother, who could feasibly have any tom he wants, is dating an airhead showcat.” _

“Yes, and  _ I  _ still can’t believe my lovely, elegant, strong and clever sister is mated to a mangy stray I caught eating out of our garbage can once.” 

They looked at one another for a beat, before bursting into laughter. To any outsider, Quaxo might’ve just appeared to be unjustly cruel to his poor mute sister, but that was just an outside perspective. It perpetually frustrated the both of them that no one else understood their relationship, but for all the teasing and the mutual bitchiness, they really did love one another. Victoria’s smile fell slightly, and it was not lost on Quaxo. 

“Victoria, why did you  _ really _ come back early?” He asked suspiciously

_ “Would you believe me if I said I missed you?”  _

“Absolutely not. If that bastard has done anything to hurt you I swear I will hex him so badly he-”

_ “It’s not Plato, I swear.”  _ She interrupted, before wincing.  _ “Well, not really, anyway.”  _

He crossed his paws over one another, giving her a skeptical glare. 

“Dish.” He demanded. 

_ “I want kittens. Plato’s not sure. We had a fight over it, and I wanted to take a walk to clear my head. It all sounds so silly now.”  _

“Because it is.” Quaxo said flatly “Honestly, ‘Toria, you’re taking things way too fast. I mean,  _ kittens _ ? The pair of you are scarcely out of kittenhood yourselves!”

Victoria stiffened, sticking her pink nose in the air primly, her own paws crossed in a mirror image of Quaxo’s. He smiled ever so slightly at the sight, watching his sister prove his point perfectly. 

_ “There’s no need to make it  _ **_personal_ ** _ , Quaxo.” _

“Oh, it really isn’t personal. You’d be a wonderful mother, one day. You should just wait for your mate to catch up to you. I just want the best for you and  _ my  _ nieces and nephews.” 

_ “You’re incorrigible.”  _

“You’re only saying that because you know I’m right.”

It was then, of course, that Tugger finally seemed to take notice of the two, hopping excitedly up onto the hood with a metallic thud, dramatically interrupting them. He flipped his hair back, though whether it was a conscious seductive decision or just an effort to get the styled coil of fur out of his face, no one could say. He smiled a winning smile down at them, apparently oblivious to his interruption. Quaxo rolled his eyes as Victoria giggled behind her paw. 

“Mistoffelees!!” He beamed as though he were meeting Santa Claus. “Oh! And hello to you, Miss Victoria, you’re looking lovely as ever.”

_ “He calls you by your stage name?”  _ She snickered silently to her brother, outwardly batting her big blue eyes and acting the very picture of flattered. 

“He says it’s got more ‘star power’.” Quaxo explained aloud before he could catch himself. 

“It does.” Tugger insisted, ignoring the fact that Quaxo had just answered a question he couldn’t hear and sidling up to the tuxedo cat with a magnificent grin. “Besides, he spent so much time picking it out, it’s only fair it gets a little usage.”

Quaxo butted his head against him- an uncharacteristically bold display of affection. But he couldn’t help it. He loved the way Tugger never looked at him funny for the displays of his magic that were less entertaining for other cats and harder to control. It was one of the first things that had drawn his attention to the flashy tom. From the corner of his eye, he watched Victoria smirk at him, and immediately he stilled himself back into his well-practiced aloof demeanor. If Tugger noticed, he didn’t show it, beginning to purr with the intensity of a jet engine. 

_ “I like him. He’s a little stupid.” _

“Well, we all know that’s your type, now don’t we?” 

“Oh, what are we talking about? It sounds interesting.” 

“Don’t worry about it, Tugger.” Quaxo pats him gently with a paw. “Besides, ‘Toria, don’t you have a conflict to resolve?”

_ “Yes, and it’s a good thing, too, because if I didn’t, I would sit here and judge you.” _

“I’m sure you would. That’s why you’re my favorite sister.” He smiled. “Good luck with Plato.”

She winked at them before stalking away, tail swishing rhythmically.

“What’s wrong with Victoria and Plato?” Tugger whispered into his ear 

“Oh, my nutsy sister wants kittens.” Quaxo said casually, stretching out against the tom. 

“Kittens are fun.” 

“Kittens are a big responsibility.”

“I think they’d manage.” Tugger said, before taking to grooming the tuxedo pressed against him. “Why are you so against it, anyway, huh? Not a kitten person?”

"It's not that." Quaxo snapped. "I just don't think they're ready is all."

"Alright, then." Tugger chuckled. 

"Why do  _ you _ care anyway? It's not  _ your _ sister."

"Just curious is all." The larger tom shrugged, before abruptly standing, circling Quaxo with an ambiguous smirk. "It's always a treat to see you, but I'm afraid I'm late for an appointment. Meet me at the docks later?"

"Maybe." Quaxo said haughtily, but the twinkle in his eye contradicted his indecision. "If I can't find anything better to do." 

"I hope you'll grace me with your presence, Mistoffelees." Tugger winked, before hopping down and heading off in the direction of the townhouse Quaxo knew he spent a good deal of his time.

He stretched back out again, his body lean and fluid against the warm metal as he watched him go, tail high in the air. Quaxo smiled a lazy smile, purring ever so slightly and thinking of how he'd show up fashionably late to the docks.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------

He hadn't intended for them to end up together- at least, not like this. Quaxo had had every intention of leading the Rum Tum Tugger on and playing hard to get for just a little longer, just to make sure he  _ really  _ wanted him, but…..then the ball happened. 

To say that the last Jellicle ball had not gone to plan would have been a gross understatement, and it was just a little jarring for everyone, but for Tugger it had been...traumatic. Quaxo knew this- he'd been able to sense it- but he hadn't known just how bad it had been until he'd followed him home. To lose one's mother and elder brother in one night, and almost lose their father at the same time….well he couldn't imagine. So he was quiet, and let him speak all his anguish into the world. It had been an emotionally taxing evening to say the least, but he'd emerged with a new understanding of the older tom, and the feeling that he could no longer live without him. 

His feet were silent against the damp planks of the docks as he made his way to their usual meeting spot. Quaxo gave a little chirp of greeting as he came upon the other tom, curling his tail around himself as he sat comfortably close. 

"You came." Tugger said, butting their heads together. 

"Did you really think I wouldn't?" Quaxo intoned. 

"I can never tell, with you." 

"Good." He purred. "What did you want to see me about? Surely we haven't come all this way for a cuddle."

To his surprise, Tugger appeared almost...bashful. Good. He loved it when that little bit of genuine Tugger showed through the cracks in his facade. Once he'd been introduced to the raw, emotional man behind the flirtatious persona, he couldn't get enough of him. With that charming smile of his, Tugger slides something his way. Quaxo looks down at the tiny roasted quail that is now sitting before him. 

"That woman spoils you, you know." He said as he took the offering. 

"It suits me. Makes it easier to spoil you." Tugger said. "Besides, I would have preferred a hen."

Quaxo rolled his eyes, but nibbled politely at his treat. He wasn't going to turn down such an exquisite gift, after all. Tugger watched him with a smirk, but all the adoration in the world behind his eyes. 

"You still haven't answered my question."

"Hmn?"

"You only drag me out here when you want to talk about something important." Quaxo stated primly. 

"I like the way the moonlight looks in the water, and the sounds of the waves are nice." 

"Tugger." 

"Mistoffelees, I want to make this official." 

Quaxo looked up from the quail and cocked his head to one side. What was that supposed to mean?

"I thought we  _ were _ official." 

"Not what I meant." He said, shuffling on his feet ever so slightly. "Mistoffelees- with your permission, of course, I'm going to ask my father if we can open the mating dance at the ball this year." 

Quaxo blinked in surprise.  _ Oh _ .

"Tugger, that's  _ serious _ ." He said, just a touch breathless. 

"I'm serious." And it was almost the most serious Quaxo had ever heard him sound. "But I understand if you aren't-" 

"Yes." 

It was Tugger's turn to look surprised, and quite honestly, Quaxo didn't blame him for assuming that he'd scamper off with a "maybe" or even a flat out "no". He wasn't known for jumping headlong into anything, especially when he was even a little unsure, but this….this was different. This was right, and he'd known it for a long time now even if he'd steadfastly maintained his aloof demeanor. 

"Yes?" Tugger echoed, dumbfounded. 

"Yes, you silly animal. I would be honored." Quaxo punctuated this statement by rubbing up against him, nose buried in his fur and head against his chin. "But if you drop me, I'll hex you so that your fur falls out and you look like a plucked chicken." 

"Mmm. I like chicken."

"You're utterly intolerable." Quaxo teased. "Honestly, I don't even know why I agreed to be mated to you." 

"Because I'm hot and I bring you exquisite gifts." Tugger stated

"Oh yes, right. I forgot I'm superficial." 

They both laughed, as the moon shimmered in the waves and the late night fishermen sang their tunes, and Quaxo felt a tingle of excitement run through him. The ball was still a long way off, and there were still hoops to go through, but he was already thinking up choreography as he purred against him. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

The Rum Tum Tugger would seldom admit to nerves, but his fur stood positively on end as he went over in his head once more how he'd ask his father for the honor of the first dance with his mate. He didn't often make a habit of asking his father for  _ anything _ . Usually, his first resort for everything was Munkustrap. But Munkustrap wasn't leader yet, so Old Deuteronomy it would have to be. He padded softly into the elder's den, unsure of if he'd find him awake or not. 

"Father? Are you in?" He called quietly. 

"Rum Tum Tugger? Is that you son?" 

Old Deuteronomy staggered out of the back room, ears perked up in attention. Why he always insisted upon using Tugger's full name was beyond him, but he always did seem happy to see his youngest. He pulled him into a bone-crushing hug, chuckling warmly. 

"Hello my boy! To what do I owe the pleasure?" He asked, putting Tugger back on his feet. 

Tugger took a moment to straighten himself, and to remind himself that this visit was business and not just popping in to pay a visit on his dear old dad. This was serious. He cleared his throat. 

"Father, I'm afraid I have something rather important to ask you." He said in his best 'serious' voice. 

"Oh? And what's that?" Deuteronomy gave an amused smile, sitting back on his haunches. 

"With your permission, I would like to open the mating dance this year." Tugger declared, chest puffed out. "With my mate, Mr. Mistoffelees." 

"Bustopher's boy?" 

"Yes, father." 

Old Deuteronomy looked serious for a moment, closing his eyes in serene contemplation. Tugger hated that face. The “decision making” face. It always made his tail twitchy and his fur stand on end. 

“He’s awfully young.” Deuteronomy said eventually.

“He’s Victoria’s littermate. I don’t recall you having any problems with her and Plato leading the ceremony at the last ball.” 

“I didn’t.” he conceded with a nod. “But then again, my youngest son wasn’t involved in the coupling. I’m worried about your.. indecisive tendencies, Rum Tum Tugger. Leading the mating ceremony is a very serious step in a relationship. It is not a way to display one’s latest playmate.”

“Father.” Tugger said, trying to summon some of his brother’s stern nature into himself. “I have never been more decided on anything in my life, and I promise you this; If you deny me this now, I will never ask for it again. Not with any other cat. Never.” 

Old Deuteronomy gave a melancholy laugh as he struggled back to his feet. He placed a paw on Tugger’s shoulder. 

“Forgive me, my boy. Perhaps I am just a little more hesitant when it comes to you. It makes one feel particularly old, you see, watching their own kittens grow into toms. It seems only yesterday you were batting my tail around, and now….” He trailed off, looking quite sad and very old. “You’ve grown into a fine man, Rum Tum Tugger, and Quaxo is a cat of many talents and excellent repute. It would be my distinct pleasure to have you open the mating dance at the next ball, on the condition that you receive Bustopher’s approval as well. He is a cat of quite high standing in this clan, and I think it would be wise to avoid offending him by leaving him out of this process.”

“Well, that shouldn’t be too difficult.” Tugger said, barely able to contain his excitement as he pulled his father into another embrace. “Thank you father. You won’t regret this, I promise.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------

That night, Tugger had made his way to Bombalurina’s den with a skip in his step. He didn’t have a den of his own in the junkyard, but hers was as close to home as his lovely little townhouse. He ducked behind the moth eaten curtain that served as their door, excited to see his bosom companion. 

“How did it go, darling?” She purred from her cushion before he could even say anything, stretching as she got to her feet. 

“Bomba, it went fantastic!” He said as he went to greet her, rubbing himself against her with tender familiarity. 

“So he said ‘yes’ then?”

“Yes! Well. Sort of yes.”

“Oh?” Bombalurina sat down, cocking her head to the side curiously. “Well what does ‘sort of yes’ mean?” 

“He wants me to ask Bustopher Jones for Misto’s hand.” Tugger grinned. 

“How positively archaic.” Bombalurina smiled in return. “Doesn’t seem too hard a task, though. Bustopher is a reasonable tom, and Mistoffelees absolutely  _ adores _ you.” 

“I’m not worried about it.” Tugger said, as he got back to his feet and made his way to the cushion. “Where are the kittens?” 

“Electra is hardly a kitten anymore, Tugger. She was barely a kitten when I took them in- and she’s with Rumpleteazer.” She followed him, coiling herself against him atop the plush velvet. “As for Etcetera, she passed out in the playroom. She just wears herself out so fast.”

“She certainly is a bit wild. Takes after you, I think.” He laughed. “And Rumpleteazer and Electra, huh? Now  _ that’s _ new. You’re letting her shack up with an older queen?” 

“What they do is hardly ‘shacking up’. They’re quite sweet together. Besides, as I’ve said, Electra’s hardly a kitten anymore. She’s allowed to make her own decisions.” 

“Wow aren’t you a ‘cool mum’.” Tugger teased. 

“Hush. You know I hate the ‘m’ word.” 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------

“-And all we have left to do is get your father’s permission!” Tugger explained excitedly, practically bouncing on his feet behind his mate, who was sprawled once more on the hood of the car.

“Why do we need my father’s permission?” Quaxo snapped abruptly, picking his head up. 

Tugger stopped, looking down at him with confusion. Quaxo immediately felt just as guilty as he did panicked. But why would he need to involve his father at all? He mostly hung around the house, only venturing out to the junkyard for special occasions, and they certainly weren’t  _ close _ .

“He’s a cat of very high standing, and father wants to make absolutely certain we aren’t stepping on his toes.” He looked down at him with suspicion. “....Why does it matter?”

Quaxo felt his ears lay back against his head and a great pit open up in his stomach. He’d never thought he’d have to have this conversation. Never really thought about having  _ any _ conversation. Tugger sat down, tail swaying slowly at his side as he looked at Quaxo with an expression that demanded answers. 

“He….He doesn’t know.” Quaxo sighed. 

“Doesn’t know what, Mistoffelees?” Tugger asked flatly. 

“Anything.”

“You mean you haven’t told him about us?”

“I haven’t told him anything, Tugger.” 

Quaxo could feel the emotion radiating off of the other tom- anger, hurt, fear, insecurity- and for a moment he’s worried he might yell. He never did like loud noises, and when he got yelled at he could hardly stand it. He wasn’t nearly loud enough to win a screaming match. Instead, the only outward change in his mate is his tail, which twitched in irritation against the hood. 

“Why not?”

“I….I don’t know.” 

“You  _ don’t know _ ?” He hissed back. “How do you just not tell your own father about us?!”

“We’re just not like that, Tugger!” Quaxo snapped defensively, getting to his feet. 

“What does that even mean?!”

“I don’t really  _ talk _ to him about things like that!” 

“You think you can’t tell your  _ father _ that you’re  _ engaged?! _ ” 

Oh dear. They were being watched. He could  _ feel _ all the pairs of eyes on them without ever having to look for them. He couldn’t do this anymore. Was it hotter out here? He could swear that the metal hood of the car- which had been delightfully warm a moment previous- was now burning the pink pads of his paws. 

“You just don’t understand.” Quaxo said, backing up. 

“No! I  _ don’t _ understand!” Tugger took a step forward. “Are you  _ ashamed _ of me?!”

“No, I-”

“Because you’re certainly  _ acting _ as though I’m something you have to hide!” 

“Tugger, please-” He was panicking. There were too many other cats, too many eyes, too much noise, too much light, the car hood was too hot it was too much too much too much

“ **_STOP!!_ ** ” Quaxo screamed, lightening bursting from his paws and catching a nearby bag aflame.

And everything did. The junkyard was silent as Quaxo panted, eyes darting from the fire to the stunned expressions on the prying cats, to the shock and concern on Tugger’s face. Oh no. He’d fucked up bad. Quaxo squeezed his eyes shut tight, willing himself not to cry and trying to bring back a touch of his composure. 

“Misto, I’m-” Tugger began, but Quaxo didn’t let him finish. 

“I’m going home. Goodnight, Tugger.” He said stiffly, before hopping off the car hood and strutting out of the junkyard, ignoring every stare on his way out.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He debated following after Mistoffelees, but decided against it. He knew his mate, and knew that he would need the space, so as much as it pained him, Tugger sulked off in the opposite direction. He sullenly rolled a ball across the dirt, thinking up ways to apologize and make everything right again. 

“Whatcha doin’, Uncle Tugger?” Jemima looked down at him from where she was perched atop the tube he was laying in.

“Nothing much.” He sighed. “What are  _ you _ doing, Jem?” 

“Electra said you and Misto got in a big fight. I thought you might want some company.” She said, hopping off of the tube and onto the ground in front of him. 

“How very astute.” He smiled. “Between you and your dad, I can’t get away with anything.” 

“Nope.” Jemima agreed, taking the ball from him. She rolled it back towards him, prompting him to roll it back. “I don’t understand why you would fight. I thought you loved each other?”

“We do.” Tugger shrugged, rolling the ball towards his young niece. “Sometimes cats fight. Emotions get the better of us, toes get stepped on. It happens to the best of us. The important thing is being able to apologize afterwards.”

“Then why are you sulking over here instead of apologizing?” 

“Mistoffelees likes to be left alone when he’s upset.” Tugger sighed. “I can’t go after him  _ now _ , it’ll only upset him more.”

Jemima nodded quietly, her little face turning quite pensive as she stopped the ball beneath her paw. The resemblance to Demeter was strong in her features, and it made him smile ever so slightly. Eventually she looked back to him, chin proudly in the air, and declared;

“Sometimes, Uncle Tugger, what we want and what we need are two very different things.” 

He can’t help but laugh a little at that. That was exactly what Munkustrap had liked to say to him when he was being an obstinate brat of a kitten, and hearing it from his young niece was quite the deja vu moment. Though Munk was never sure of himself, Tugger had always known he’d be a great father; after all, he’d practically raised him. Jemima was right, though.

“Has anyone ever told you that you are far too mature for your age?” He said, cocking his head.

“Oh, maybe once or twice.” Jemima smiled, voice dripping with false modesty. 

“Well!” He started, getting to his feet and shaking himself off. “I suppose we have an apology to plan.”

“‘We’?”

“Well, I thought since you’re such an expert, you might be willing to give your poor Uncle Tugger a hand in planning a grand romantic gesture.” 

Her face lit up with excitement, and he knew she was in. Tugger smiled. It did make it a little easier to brainstorm when he wasn’t pouting all alone. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Quaxo sighed, counting shapes in the wallpaper and feeling rather foolish for his outburst. He could have handled this better- he  _ should _ have handled it better. It had been ages since he’d accidentally set anything on fire, and quite frankly, it embarrassed him. Being magically gifted certainly hadn’t always been easy on him, especially coming into the tribe so soon after Macavity had left it. Still, moping about wasn’t going to help anything. He stretched, and got to his feet. 

Tugger had had a point. It was long past time for him to have a talk with his father. But talking….didn’t come easy to them. At least, not about anything serious. Their conversations consisted of the weather, and stories Bustopher had picked up at one of his clubs, or Quaxo at the junkyard, or what was for supper. Quite frankly, Quaxo didn’t even know how to begin a deeper conversation, and as he made his way towards the spot in the kitchen he knew his father would occupy, he found himself feeling...nervous. Despite the mounting anxiety, and the lingering sting of having upset someone he loved dearly, Quaxo rounded the corner with his head held high and a sure, confident step. 

“Papa?” 

The large black orb sitting in the velvet bed by the door stirred, unfurling into a more cat like shape as Bustopher Jones awoke from his nap. Quaxo instantly felt a twinge of guilt for waking him, but internally waved it away. He couldn’t back down now. He owed it to Tugger, and more importantly, to himself. Bustopher cracked an emerald eye open, straightening his posture to a sitting position.

“Quaxo, you’re home early.” He observed. 

“Yes, well, I had a rather important matter to discuss with you.” He said quite professionally, as though this were a business transaction rather than a conversation with his father. 

“Well, let’s not beat around the bush then, shall we?” Bustopher smiled, settling back into the velvet cat bed and crossing his paws in front of him, his manner equally professional, but with a bemused undercurrent. “What are we to discuss?”

“The details of my engagement.” Quaxo said plainly, sitting comfortably. 

His father’s eyes widened in surprise, but that was the extent of the reaction. He nodded, processing the information, his smile widening almost imperceptibly. Quaxo felt a little stir of excitement at the subtle approval. He took a deep breath, and continued. 

“The Rum Tum Tugger and I have already received permission from Old Deuteronomy to lead the mating ceremony in this year’s ball, on the terms that you offer your own approval as well.” 

Bustopher’s smile fell, and so did Quaxo’s heart. He looked thoughtfully at the linoleum floor, while Quaxo looked expectantly at him. Eventually, he spoke. 

“I’m afraid I can’t provide that.” He said thoughtfully. 

“Is it because he’s a tom?” Quaxo said defensively, the words slipping from his mouth before he could stop them.

“Of course not.” His father said equally quickly. “It’s because he’s a fool.” 

Quaxo just blinked for a moment, taken aback by the bold and brutal honesty in the statement. Bustopher Jones sighed, correctly reading the shock and appal on his son’s face, and offers him a sympathetic expression. 

“Quaxo...I’m not denying you this to be cruel.” He explained. “I just don’t want to see my son making the same mistakes I used to.” 

This did not satisfy Quaxo in the least. In fact, he found his despair and anxiety begin to turn quickly to anger. His tail twitched from side to side in irritation as he glowered up at his father. 

“With all due respect,  _ father _ -” He began, the only malice in his words being the change in the way he addressed him. “You don’t know Tugger like I do. You don’t even know  _ me _ . You aren’t around the junkyard enough anymore to really know anyone, and quite frankly, I don’t  _ care _ about your approval. It’s just a formality.” 

Bustopher was silent for a moment, looking at Quaxo with an expression he couldn’t quite read. He wasn’t certain he was ever going to break the silence, and when he finally did, his voice was very quiet. 

“You know, I’ve always considered you and your sister to be my proudest contributions to this world?”

“No. I didn’t.” 

“Well, now you do, and I’m very sorry I’ve neglected to remind you. You may tell Deuteronomy you have my blessing.”

For a moment, Quaxo is terrified that his father might cry, but instead he stretches out, turns back around, and presumably resumed his nap, signifying the end of that conversation. He did feel just the slightest twinge of guilt, but for the most part, he just felt relieved. As uncomfortable as it had been (and he knew it would be), it was a conversation that had been long overdue, and to finally have it done with was a great relief to him. He stalked off to his own bed in the study, considering a nap of his own to take his mind off of….well, everything, really. 

\------------------------------------------------------

The orange tree in the yard was in full bloom as the spring crested, scattering petals over the lawn. It was always a sight to behold, and Quaxo was prone to lying- as he was now- across the scattered flower petals on the ground, relaxed in the shade. The petals began to fall around him with increasing frequency- almost like snow- and he smiled. A familiar voice began to hum a pleasant little melody, shaking orange blossoms over him as he serenaded. 

“You know, you’ll have to stop singing to me.” Quaxo purred, cracking an eye open to look up at the maine coon in the tree above him. 

“And why is that?” Tugger intoned, climbing down the branches with an elegance that belied his size. 

“Because you’ll make me fall in love with you.” He rolled onto his back, rolling about in the discarded flower petals for a moment before getting to his feet. 

“Oh what a  _ terrible _ fate.” Tugger said with false sympathy, coming to rest in front of him. 

In but a moment, Quaxo watched him go from suave and flirty to hesitant and guilty. It was charming, in a way, but everything Tugger did was charming, whether he intended it to be or not. Unless you asked Munkustrap, that is, but Quaxo seldom did. He stepped forward and brushed his cheek against Tugger’s, offering him the reassurance that he wasn’t upset any longer. 

“I’m sorry…” Tugger whispered, pushing back into the affection. 

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.” Quaxo said plainly.

“Mistoffelees-”

“No, no, don’t argue with me.” He cut him off with a raised paw. “You may have conducted yourself in an...ungraceful manor, but you were entirely correct. I really ought to have had that conversation a long time ago, and I'm sorry you had to...intervene.”

“You don’t need to apologize to  _ me _ .” Tugger chuckled softly

“We’re on the same page then.” Quaxo smiled. “And furthermore, we have my father’s blessing.”

Tugger’s eyes widened, expression turning from shock to excitement, and then finally settling on confusion. 

“I thought  _ I _ was supposed to ask him?”

“Oh  _ please. _ That’s so  _ archaic _ .” Quaxo rolled his eyes. “Next you’ll be asking to pay my dowry.” 

“If that’s what it takes.” 

Quaxo laughed, butting his head against Tugger’s affectionately, purring his quiet little purr. Tugger’s own virtually drowned it out, however, as he pulled the petite cat in closer. 

\--------------------------------------------

Quaxo did not consider himself to be a “kitten person”, really, but he did love a receptive audience, and no one impressed easier than the kits. He paused for dramatic effect, taking careful note of his tiny audience’s enthused expressions and….produced an entire bouquet of daffodils from thin air, handing them to Jemima with a flourish. She took them with a squeal of delight, and the kittens around her erupted into giggles and cheers. He smiled, and took a quick bow. 

The whole flower trick was just that- a trick. Very little  _ real _ magic involved, but he knew Jemima’s affinity for flowers and he figured he owed her something for talking some sense into his silly fiance. 

“WOAH How do you  _ do _ that?!” Etcetera shouted, bouncing on her toes. 

“A magician never tells their secrets, Cettie.” Jemima said before he could, winking in his direction. 

“She’s right. If I told you, you could steal my whole act!” He said with a paw over his chest.

“Pfft. I bet it was just hiding up your sleeve. It’s not  _ that _ cool.” Tumblebrutus scoffed. 

So much for “childhood wonder.” However, as much as he loved a receptive audience, Quaxo could appreciate a good challenge. He strutted over to the skeptical kitten and sat before him, a false look of despair on his face. 

“You’ve caught me. The bouquet was hidden up my sleeve.” He sighed dramatically. “Nothing gets past you, Tumblebrutus.”

He bowed his head in submission, feeding into the act and encouraging him. Tumblebrutus took the bait, puffing up proudly. 

“I bet  _ all _ your tricks are just that-  _ tricks _ !” He sneered, looking for encouragement from his peers. 

And they all did seem very interested in the show before them. After all, it wasn’t often that anyone challenged  _ the _ Magical Mr. Mistoffelees. But that was part of the plan, after all. Clearly Quaxo couldn’t impress them all with parlor tricks anymore, so it was time to up the ante. 

“Oh, not  _ all _ of them.” He said with a smirk. 

“Prove it.” 

“Well, if you  _ insist _ .” 

Quaxo waved his paw, and suddenly, all four of Tumblebrutus’s paws left the ground. The kitten yelped as he was levitated into the air, looking down at the spot where his feet once stood with wide eyes. A chorus of impressed gasps and giggles erupted from the kits and Quaxo smiled brightly, cocking an eyebrow at Tumblebrutus, who was now desperately trying to air-paddle back to the ground. He set him back down gently, making sure he hit the ground softly. That was always the hardest part of levitation- the landing- but he’d had enough practice now. The kittens cheered, and he bowed again, taking notice of the fact that even Tumblebrutus was clapping for him. 

“Bravo! Splendid! Simply magnificent, Quaxo!”

His head snapped up in shock, looking for the source of the familiar voice. Sure enough, Bustopher Jones sat at the edge of the junkyard, clapping smiling warmly at him. 

“Papa?” He said quietly, still half bowed. “W-what are you doing here?” 

“I heard you were doing a little magic show and I thought I’d sit in.” Bustopher said casually, as though it weren’t the once-in-a-lifetime occurrence that it was. “It’s been ages since I’ve seen you perform. You’ve improved.”

“Thanks.” He said, still not quite believing his eyes. 

They wouldn’t talk about it- he knew that much, but it seemed as though something about that conversation had stuck with Bustopher Jones. It must have, if he was at the junkyard for any reason other than the ball. Quaxo smiled shakily at him, and repeated, knowing that his father would certainly hear the true depth of the statement;

“Thanks, Papa.”


End file.
